Thrills to Last a Lifetime
by Little Blossom
Summary: FujiRyoma drabbles. I doubt I'll do them all but this is for 101 kisses. 101 themes, 101 drabbles. Oh dear, I'm getting a sense of epic failure here.
1. One Hundred and One Kisses

**One hundred and one Kisses**

It took only the simple press of lips on willing flesh to get the skin heated and flushed, to get a soft sigh or groan, and to get the heart to beat unbearably loud. That's what Ryoma thought whenever Fuji kissed him.

There were so many kinds of kisses, each one binding them even closer together than before.

Some kisses were dizzying, some sweet, some burning and possessive.

Ryoma adored them all (of course he wouldn't tell Fuji that).

There were some nights in the heat of passion where Fuji would shower him with kisses. Heavy and consuming as he stormed his mouth, lips, and tongue. Wet and greedy on Ryoma's neck, sucking and nipping his mark, rosy bruises colouring in a sign of identity. Gentle, breezy wisps of lips across his collarbone, to only then continue downward in a light rendition of gentle summer rain.

Kisses could set the mood, deciding the intensity and depth of a meeting. It could intensify the awareness of everything in their surroundings, or it could cut is all away to create a surreal fuzz of reality.

Ryoma liked getting kissed by Fuji, just as he enjoyed kissing him. It was something he never tired of. It was something he doubted would ever change.

He could never tire of any of the hundred and one different kisses Fuji had for him, each one unique in its own way.

He doubted he could survive without Fuji and his kisses.

After all, it was Fuji's kiss goodnight that always sent him sailing after his dreams.


	2. Joy doubled, sorrow halved

**Joy doubled, sorrow halved**

People who saw Fuji always saw a gentle boy and a pretty face. They'd see his warming smile, his relaxed easygoing expressions, and they'd think to themselves, in quiet aw, that human born angels really do exist. He'd always greet them eloquently and formally with a soft soothing voice that would spread gently along their veins, relaxing the muscles in kneading comforting ways. That voice could tell no lies, hide no secrets, and give you nothing but warmth. To those people, he was a pure being.

People who knew Fuji were aware that there was more to him than a kind closed eyed smile. Along with the startling striking intelligence, there was a masking darkness that was so black it was almost impossible to see. His quiet darkness would engulf and strike those that he deemed deserved it, and his brilliance's full potential was hidden away in shadows for safekeeping. They knew him to have an odd and twisted sense of humour, to eat inedible things with a pleased smile, and to treasure all that he cared for. To them, he was a unique and strange boy, with his shining brilliance hidden behind a gentle dark shadow, and a whimsical approach to life.

The people that presently know Fuji from his inner core and heart, those people do not exist. There are those close to him that think or delude themselves that they do, but in crude actuality, there's no one that knows. There's no one that _could_ know. No one understands the ugliness in his heart, that _is_ his heart. The darkness that's encasing him is a sad lonely thing. Being a genius of his calibre doesn't come without flaw. Loneliness accompanies him everywhere, he hears every cry of despair, smells the rancid scent of blood, tastes the bitterness of revenge, feels the indifferent stabs of cruelty, and sees the ugliness in everyone's heart. There's loneliness because there's nothing else. There are those he cares for, and while he likes seeing them happy and wants nothing but the best for them, even those smiles cannot fill all those holes. He's someone that has sorrow wrapped around them as a security blanket, the bitterness from his heart always taking amusement of others in pain, and always reaping the joy one could get out of chaos. Cruelty had twisted and warped his soul, and with this awkward shape hiding inside himself, there isn't anything to fit in the space.

The people that will one day know Fuji from his inner core and heart, those people are actually not in plural but singular, they're only one person. That person, a boy two years younger than Fuji himself, known for his genius in tennis, and snaky attitude, is named Ryoma Echizen. Off the court he's a someone that's an intelligent and attractive boy who doesn't say much, and a someone that does surprisingly well in school for always seeming to be dreaming (of tennis and certain a cat) all the way through it. Fuji had never seen him in school, never paid attention to him in particular, even when he saw him playing in the courts he never thought too much of it. He saw Ryoma as someone that deserved every word of praise he received for his skills on the courts. You could see his brilliance in his every movement, the way his feet moved and the way either arm stroked with solid fluid grace. He was beautiful on the courts, the sweat coated skin, muscle curves, and tousled hair hidden under a hat, all of it speaking subliminal messages of its radiance. And while Fuji thought highly of his abilities and of him (he could be awfully amusing after all), there were others that spoke of perfection on the court, and others that were just as easily amusing. Ryoma was someone that could be replaced.

Fuji will soon find out that it's not until you play Ryoma that one gets a clear image of him. It's not until you play Ryoma that his image will brand itself into you mind, splashed in vivid colours that demand to be admired in its artistic glory. There are many who have changed attitudes after playing him, too many Fuji will one day think, as his bitter heart will begin to experience feelings of jealousy.

When one plays Ryoma, Fuji will discover, they will either feel themselves be pushed further with their abilities, or they'll feel themselves completely smothered. He had the power to destroy or make you. An ability Tezuka possessed as well. But when Fuji plays Ryoma that day not far from now, where the rain staining his body doesn't matter and the thwack of the tennis ball sings in time with his heart, it's then that he'll realize that no one could ever replace Ryoma. You couldn't replace that thrill that eats at your mind to only let the adrenaline and feelings flow, amplifying yet silencing your surroundings as Ryoma's image screams for attention with a single bratty smirk.

This feeling that Fuji will feel, it'll confuse and conflict with the feelings in his heart. The power and confidence that comes from the boy is like no other. It's neither boastful nor subtle. It's there and it's so very much him. Fuji will be forced to go to him, where he'll be subconsciously waiting. He always wanted to finish that battle in the rain, and Fuji can use it as the perfect excuse. At that time, Ryoma has already beaten Tezuka, and his potential will be glaringly bright.

At that time, Ryoma will see through Fuji through his tennis. He'll see the darkness of Fuji's heart and he'll see the hole that can never be filled. It'll show in Fuji's tennis, and using that against him he'll beat him with glacial indifference. Fuji, he'll smile as always, a kind compliment readily coming off of his tongue. Ryoma will scowl at him, his tongue just as sharp.

_You have to play me again when your holes are fixed, Fuji-sempai. _Double meaning, knowing cocky smirk, serious eyes.

_Well, if you want to play me, you'll have to fix those holes won't you._ Always gentle and teasing, the pleading always hidden.

Fuji will discover what it's like to have someone know your mind and heart, not rape but a consented non verbal implication. Ryoma will accept him entirely, filling the holes, taking the darkness into himself. When they kiss, Ryoma will numb all his senses and make him think of nothing but the pleasurable heat and want passing between them, all the screams from blood and ugliness being let go in moments of heat. Neither will be a romantic, there'll be no need. Ryoma will be all he'll need. And while the darkness inside him will surround Ryoma in possession and ugly feelings for those who want and despise him, Ryoma will allow it as he understands him better than anyone else.

It's through this, that half his sorrow will get taken away to have his joy doubled by the warm feelings. His heart may be clouded and small, but there's room for one and that person can see through any haze before him.


	3. Clock

**Clock**

"Fuji… what are you doing?" Ryoma glanced over from where he sat on Fuji's bed to where said boy was currently playing around with some sort of trinket.

"I'm trying to fix this old clock I found," he said mildly. He held up an old antique clock. "See?"

It was a little beat up around the edges, but it seemed to be in fairly good condition. It had a red tone to the wood, golden arms and numbers, and there were delicate carvings ingrained in the wood.

"What's that for?"

"For telling the time of course." He grinned at Ryoma teasingly while Ryoma just scowled.

"Why are you fixing it?

"Because it's broken," he replied easily. "Really, Ryoma. You're asking the silliest questions today."

"…Fuji." His glower was absolutely dark and full of harmful intent, well, slightly on the sexual harmful intent side, but harmful by any means.

"Now, now Ryoma. No need to get upset, I was merely playing. If you must know I just wanted to get this old clock working again so I can give it to my sister. Her birthday is coming up and she broke hers last week when she accidentally knocked it off the table." He poked at something inside the clock and smiled. "I think I get how this works."

"Then tell me why I'm here?"

"What do you mean be that?" he asked with confusion plastered over his face. Well, that was a complete lie, he wasn't confused at all. His feelings were closer to amusement as he knew how Ryoma would respond.

"You called me here complaining you needed my help… at four in the morning. You claimed it was an emergency, and here you are fixing a clock. I only came because you kept calling every time I hung up." He seemed to pause to grumble, but Fuji heard his quiet complaint about getting called twelve times. "Do you know how tired I am? I got up early and I'm bored," Ryoma spoke in an annoyed fashion, yawning cutely (and enticingly in Fuji's opinion) to prove his point further.

"But I wanted to give this to her before her friends wisp her away for her birthday getaway this weekend. She's leaving at nine this morning." Fuji wasn't looking at Ryoma anymore but at the clock in his hand. He admired the work before poking at it once more. He saw the hour hand twitch and he smiled to himself again. He started tweaking it a bit more and pried at a gear.

Ryoma flopped back on the bed. "That doesn't explain why I'm here. And every time I try to sleep you wake me up," Ryoma complained settling down to sleep for the sixth time that morning.

Just when he was starting to drift off into happy "Lala" land he felt something poke his forehead. He glared at the offending finger.

"Ryoma-kun, I wouldn't want my moral support to fall asleep on me. It would be most upsetting as it'd feel like you're giving up on me."

"You never had my support in the first place. So let me sleep." He shut his eyes and refused to open them despite the prodding finger.

Fuji frowned. He wasn't responding. "Ne, Ryo-chan?" Fuji knew he was awake by the pout forming on Ryoma's face. Ryoma never did grow fond of that nickname, just replied 'mada made dane' when asked why he didn't like it. Fuji opened his eyes, wicked blue becoming hazy as he stared at Ryoma's vulnerable and unexpecting face. "You said you were bored and tired. Let's see if I can rectify that and get the blood going."

Get the blood going, wait a second…"Wha -ammmfff!? Nnngg –gah! Ehngammmph. Mmmm… mmm, Syuusuke…"

Fuji moved from his earlier position of leaning over Ryoma beside him to straddling Ryoma, pinning said boys wrists above his head. He kissed Ryoma teasingly, tongue drawing him into a game of cat and mouse.

"Stop teasing."

"But you enjoy it so much," Fuji grinned. "Who would've thought that I'd have to motivate the motivator into motivating me? Sa, well, that's life."

"I don't know why I put up with you?"

Fuji grinned cutely. "Because you love me."

"Unfortunately."

"That's mean Ryoma. Besides, who else could do this to you?"

"Unngh…" he unwillingly voiced as Fuji ground his hips purposely into Ryoma's. After the initial reaction wore off he glared at Fuji.

"Oh don't glare at me that heatedly, it makes picturing you in lewd fantasies that much easier." His grin was positively wicked. "Don't make me rush; my self-control can only last so long."  
Ryoma didn't even want to think how Fuji could say all that with a straight face. Besides, he had more important matters at the moment. After all, he was bored and irritated, and something interesting just happened to be sitting on his lap. Something he knew he could easily entice into a game other than tennis, a game that could surely be just as enjoyable. "Self-control? You?" A smirk as he freed a hand. "You don't have any." A buck of his hips and a well placed grope was enough to prove his point as he saw Fuji's eyes cloud to an even darker blue as his blood pumped full of desire.

In a split second Ryoma found that one iron gripped hand caught and kept his wrists locked to the mattress as the other was thoroughly molesting the rest of him, Fuji's hips grinding sensually against him as a tongue thoroughly raped his mouth (though Fuji would argue that it's not rape if the other is willing).

"I have plenty of self-control Ryo-chan." There was a grunt of annoyance, but it turned into a moan with a nip and lick to the left collarbone, his hips still moving. He pulled back to see Ryoma's face pretty and flushed rosy, his intense eyes half lidded with lust, his lips moist, tender and plump from pleasurable abuse, that mouth partly open in unspoken plea…

Fuji wedged his thigh in between Ryoma's and applied mind blowing pressure in rhythmic waves.

"Aahhhng… ha…ha… Syu…Syuusuke… I- I… God…"

He watched that mouth move into various expressive states as his kneading thigh made Ryoma pant, with his expressions and sounds erotic, serving to only further drive his mind into the gutter.

"I just lose all my self-control around you." His voice was husky and heated in Ryoma's ear. Ryoma felt sparks fly down his spine at the tone. "Especially when you're under and hot for me."

"Mada mada dane… Fuji-sempai." Ryoma in turn pressed his thigh into Fuji's arousal. He smirked as he saw the closed eye expression cross Fuji's face.

Fuji composed himself, intensified lust being the only effect. "Yes," he agreed with himself. "Only you make me lose myself." He lowered himself again to Ryoma's face. "And I lose myself completely when I'm _in_ you."

Ryoma licked Fuji's lips teasingly. "And I so do love making you lose your sanity."

That was all the response he needed to delve into Ryoma's mouth, tasting and savouring the satisfaction of owning the boy under him completely. Ryoma was passion, companionship, love and more. He wanted Ryoma on so many levels and he knew Ryoma felt the same about him.

They knew there love was stubborn and unyielding, not even time could predict the extent of their relationship. Time could be standing still, backwards, forwards, now, then. The feelings they have are eternal and vast like space. They'd be together no matter what happens.

Only Fuji could fill Ryoma when the time comes, and only Ryoma could fill Fuji when the passion and heat was brimming their insanity.

Clothes were tossed and ripped off, skin met skin, and hot lips meshed together in primal need. Gasps were released, sometimes swallowed by the other, panting, moaning, names, one worded responses, nothing more was needed to express the need. It was dizzying feelings of warmth, pleasure, and desire, it swirled prettily in their bodies to create a euphoric fog.

Want.

That's what they felt. It was so satisfying yet never enough. There was never enough of the other person. And they'd grip each other harder, press together further, and become each other entirely connecting over and over again. Each pulse connecting together their hearts and minds. They lost themselves entirely in each other until the intense waves died into warm fuzzy feeling. The older one pulled himself out with his body still flush together with his companion. The after glow was always sweet. Ryoma would cuddle and burry himself in Fuji, Fuji brushing sweat wet bangs aside while petting the other, placing feather light kisses across the brow. The warmth would hit them in lazy waves until they'd drift off to sleep with the comfort of the other next to them.

* * *

Ryoma shifted a bit in the bed he was in, his body warm with a certain… soreness in southern regions. He was groggy, so he turned and buried himself further into the bed.

"I'm done," said a soft voice in the room.

Ryoma peaked open an eyelid to see Fuji fully dressed (and he guessed showered as well), sitting in the middle of the room holding up the old clock.

Fuji seeming to sense Ryoma's staring turned to look at the sleepy boy with his hair all dishevelled and a tired dopey expression on his face.

"Rise and shine sleepy head," Fuji spoke cheerfully. Sickenly cheerful in Ryoma's opinion. He responded by further burying his head into the pillow.

"I'll be back in a couple minutes, I'm just going to wrap this up and give it to my sister."

As the click of the door marked Fuji's leave, Ryoma took this opportunity to snuggle even deeper into the pillow, just because it was so inviting. The pillow smelled like Fuji, whatever that was supposed to be, but it was comforting and it was nice. He was so comfortable he didn't notice Fuji's return until he felt the sink in the bed next to him as Fuji sat down.

"Ryoma, you have to get up now," Fuji said, running a hand through Ryoma's hair.

"Don't wanna."

Fuji sighed. "Ah, well, I guess I'll let you sleep a bit longer. You did your job perfectly."

Ryoma blinked into the pillow, confused at Fuji's words. "Job?" came his muffled response.

Had Ryoma looked up he would've seen Fuji beaming, not that it really mattered, Fuji's voice was so bright Ryoma wanted to smack him with a pillow, a firm, hard one. "Your job at being my motivator. After I was done motivating you into motivating me, I realised it was the perfect motivation seeing you sleeping after a little fun. Just looking at you and knowing it was me that had you moments earlier was really quite inspiring." Fuji pecked Ryoma's head. "I finished the clock in no time, even after our little… work break."

"Mmmf."

"Fine, fine, I'll let you sleep. But I look foreword to working with you again. Besides, even motivating the motivator is a fun game to play."

Ryoma shot right up. "Again!?"

"I think I've developed a knack for fixing things. Don't you want me to explore my talents Ryo-chan?" Cupping Ryoma's cheek he kissed it sweetly.

Ryoma was too dismayed to say anything.

"And of course I'll want you by my side for whatever I work on. You're my motivator. Now, I'll have to motivate you first, but that's a task quite enjoyable in itself."

It was too early Ryoma thought. It was too early to be hearing such… such depressing _things_. So Ryoma just curled back under the sheets and into the blankets to pretend this conversation never took place. He'd let it sink in later when he had the energy to argue a battle Fuji would never let him win anyways.

"_I could always fix a clock for you Ryoma."_

Oh he must be hearing voices again. Fuji's voice always did haunt him at times, but that doesn't matter, time for better things like napping.

Sleep. Time to sleep and to ignore that talking boy. Maybe he could finish that dream where he was playing tennis with Karupin. His cat was ahead when he woke up, and he wouldn't let Karupin beat him, even if it was his beloved cat.

end


End file.
